


Sepulchral

by russianwinter013



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007), Transformers Generation One
Genre: Explicit Gore, F/M, M/M, Masochism, Multi, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadism, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-03 17:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5300870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/russianwinter013/pseuds/russianwinter013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a night at the bar with his partner, Jazz is captured by his worst enemy, otherwise known as the Incarcerator. The conditions that he is forced to bear with are comparable to that of hell, and he must fight to survive if he ever wants to see the light of day again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prowls Twin (Skyrange)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyrange/gifts).



"Jazz, I do not think that is a good idea."

"Aw, relax, would ya, 'Storm? 'Sides, it ain't like we breakin' the law or nothin'."

Crimson armor rippled as the triple changer rolled his optics. "That is exactly why I am worried."

The small silver-white mech stopped to stare at his partner. "Hey, Ah don't break the law tha' often! Ah just find ways ta bend it ta mah will."

"Is that why we are going to an illegal bar?" Bloodstorm muttered, wings rising and fanning out wide as his engines growled.

Jazz laughed, wrapping his servos around one of the crimson mech's. "Ya need ta stop thinkin' like a cop, especially in a place like this." The Polyhexian traced his claws over the thick crimson armor. "Wanna know why?"

The triple changer vented heavily, a faint smirk pulling back the corner of his mouthplates. "Why, my dear little hunter?"

"It's 'cause ya'll die." Jazz stared up at the mech, visor burning bright as his electromagentic field rippled wildly. "Ya'll get a shot ta the chest tha' ya won't survive, an Ah'll be sittin' there tellin' ya Ah told ya so." His mood changed abruptly as he grinned brightly, bouncing on his pedes as his grip on the larger mech's servo tightened. "This is tha place."

Bloodstorm turned to look at the building. It was fairly large for a bar, with polished silver metal walls and crimson lettering on the entrance. The overpowering smell of highgrade wafted around the building, making him flick his wings in an unreadable emotion as his vents spiraled open and released heated air.

"Well, wha' are ya waitin' fer?" Jazz was literally bouncing up and down, visor shining bright, and Primus, if that grin didn't make him look hot. "C'mon!"

* * *

 

The inside of the bar was bright and hot. Pulsing strobe lights lit the room in various colors, and heavy dance music pounded out of the speakers to rattle the internals of every mech or femme in the room.

Jazz grinned and spread out his servos wide as he approached a mech standing behind a bar counter. "Chromecast? How ya doin'?"

The mech in question, a tall and slim mech with reflective silver armor, turned and gave a surprised laugh. "Jazz? What are you doing here?"

"Tryin' ta hook up mah partner with somethin' good. He's a lil' rough 'round the edges, if ya know what Ah mean." The bounty hunter's visor twinkled in amusement as he gave a sly grin.

Chromecast turned to fix his gaze on Bloodstorm, and the triple changer was surprised to see that the mech was blind. He bared his fangs, restless, as the bartender opened a side door from inside the bar counter and stepped out, silently making his way towards the triple changer. Once he was close enough, Chromecast leaned in close and inhaled deeply. After a moment of contemplation, the mech stepped back.

"Tough one alright, I can tell you that." The silver mech leaned against the counter, crossing his servos over his chest. "But I am sure I can put something together for him." He turned and scowled as a mech at the end of the counter yelled at him in another language. Chromecast visibly bristled, armor flaring wide as he stalked over and cursed at the mech. Turning to look over his shoulder panel, he gave the Polyhexian and the triple changer a thumbs up. "Be right back to get your stuff after I settle this."

"He's a strange one, alright. May be blind, but man, does he pack a mean punch." Jazz faced Bloodstorm, noticing the way his wings were tensed and the way his talons were extended to vicious points. "Hey, it's tha way he figures out what's best fer ya. Tha mech doesn't have any optics, can ya blame 'im?"

"You know how I am about my personal space." The crimson mech took to glaring at the nearest wall, optics flickering from a warm golden to a boiling crimson.

Jazz frowned, nudging at the mech's side. "Storm. Snap outta it." He dug his talons deep into the larger mech's armor, hard enough to draw Energon. When all Bloodstorm did was snarl, the Polyhexian tugged insistently at his servo. "C'mon. Ah wanna show ya somethin'."

Bloodstorm shuddered, shaking his helm. "Jazz, I cannot - "

"Storm, ya know tha' if anythin' happens, Ah'll be there. Ya won't lose control, and Ah'll get ya outta there. Ya hear?" The Polyhexian was staring up at his partner, gaze full of earnest and grim determination.

"Fine." The triple changer shook himself. "Now, what is it that you wished to show me?"

* * *

"What exactly is in this again?"

Bloodstorm spoke from his seat at an expensively luxurious settee, a servo wrapped protectively around the Polyhexian at his side. Jazz had been almost childlike in his eagerness, having urged Chromecast to make the highgrade concoction that he was designing for Bloodstorm and then dragging the triple changer to a back room that was lighted even darker than the open bar. The faint, lingering scent of different forms of highgrade was ever present, and there were couches and berths no doubt reserved for more adventurous activities. As the two had walked into the room, there was one spot open near the back corner, in between a mech that was fragging his mate from behind and a booth that was almost completely darkened except for a winged mech that was sitting there with shuttered optics and a servo braced against his helm as if he were suffering from a processor ache. He had seemed to sense the presence of the triple changer and Polyhexian, and out of the black veil two burning green optics blazed bright.

"Primus, 'Storm, ya're gonna be the death o' meh." Jazz shifted almost restlessly, electromagnetic field pulsing and armor resettling over his frame as he vented heavily.

The larger mech gave a huff of a laugh. "I thought that was already established the day we met."

"Shut up." Jazz grinned, swatting the mech on his servo before reclining on the sofa they were on with a deep sigh. Twisting his body so he was stretched out across the triple changer's lap, he traced his talons over the deep scars in the crimson armor even as his free servo cradled the highgrade cube he had. "Chromecast is one o' tha best out there. He knows exactly wha' ta give ta a mech or femme. Likes a challenge, which is wha' ya gave 'im, since ya're a triple changer an' aren't affected by highgrade like us smaller frames."

"Jazz? Is that you?" A smooth, cultured voice sounded behind them, and the two mechs turned to see a tall and slim blue mech heading towards them. His bright golden, blue, and white optics burned a hole through the dim lighting, fixed with an unnerving accuracy on the Polyhexian.

"Blurr. How are ya?" Bloodstorm could hear the distaste in his partner's voice, and he gave a deep growl as the slim mech pulled up a chair and sat opposite them.

The blue mech smirked at the triple changer, flashing white pointed dentia. "I see you have a new partner. What is this, the fifth? Or maybe the sixth?"

"Ya know meh. Can't ever keep track." Despite his easygoing tone, Jazz was bristling and tense; his hate for the mech was made clear even if Blurr wasn't picking up on it.

Blurr sniffed and shifted, optics narrowing the slightest bit. "You are ever the rowdy mech, I must say." He took a sip of the expensive highgrade that was in his clawed servos, rising with an elegant grace. "Well, then. It was nice seeing you. If you will excuse me."

"Yeah." Jazz growled lowly, fury rolling off of him in waves. He was torn from his darkening thoughts as Bloodstorm shifted above him, baring his fangs at the retreating mech.

"Hey. Ah'm right here. Don't focus on him." The Polyhexian dug his talons into the scars on the mech's servos, making him hiss and turn to look at him. "He's nothin' but a snob anyway. Ain't nothin' ta worry yaself 'bout."

Bloodstorm said nothing for a moment, and then Jazz made a surprised hiss as he was pulled into a sudden embrace. Bloodstorm's servos were wrapped tightly around him, preventing him from escaping, and Jazz could feel the burning heat radiating off of the mech.

Purring, the bounty hunter shifted and rested his helm against the broad chest of his lover. "Wha' are ya thinkin' about?"

"The case." The triple changer shuttered his optics, resting his helm on the headboard behind the couch. "It bothers me."

Jazz was silent for a moment before he vented heavily and turned to face the larger mech. "Look, 'Storm. Ah brought ya here so we could relax—mainly ya. Ya need ta stop stressin' so much. Ya can't do nothin' if ya keep tryin' too hard."

"I cannot not stop thinking about it." His engines rumbled gravely as a wash of heated air left his flared manifolds. "Jazz, we are dealing with an extremely elusive, extremely dangerous serial killer, one whose kill count continues to grow orn by orn."

"Look, ya can't think this one through logically." The Polyhexian traced his claws idly over the scars on his lover's armor, venting out heated air. "The Incarcerator is a demented killer with no morals or qualms that will stop 'im from levelin' this entire planet. Logic ain't gonna help ya here." Venting heavily, the lithe mech stood, stretching with a groan. "C'mon. Ah'm takin' ya ta meet someone."

Bloodstorm, knowing that Jazz would not stop until he had his mind on something else, rose to his pedes. "Who, exactly?"

"Ah dunno. Someone or somethin' ta get ya ta stop thinkin' about this case for at least a few hours." The Polyhexian perked up, pointing at the mech Bloodstorm had seen earlier. "Let's go talk ta 'im. He looks lonely."

"He looks like that he does not want to be bothered with." The triple changer flicked his wings, feeling a strange sense of unease wash over him as they moved closer and closer. 

"Well, we'll found out when we get there." Jazz dragged the larger mech beside him, approaching the seated mech with a bright yet mischievous grin. "Hey, mech. Mind if we join ya?"

The mech opened his optics, fixing two bright lime optics on the two mechs before him. A wash of chilled air poured from his flared manifolds as he shifted in his seat. His servos were encircling a tall glass of bright blue engex with hints of something crimson in it, and when he moved, long clawed fingers scratched against the metal of the table as a pair of powerful flier wings flared behind him. Bloodstorm felt his irritation and agitation rise as that toxic green glare pierced him to his core, making him bare his dentia in a soft warning as his grip tightened on his lover.

Wings rising in a neutral position, the mech nodded briefly, optics still locked onto the crimson mech. 

"Great!" Jazz either chose not to or did not notice the vicious glares the two were exchanging, sliding into the booth with a single graceful move. "Mah name's Jazz, an' this is mah partner Bloodstorm. Ah'm just searchin' fer somethin' ta get his mind offa work, and Ah think yer tha' perfect distraction." He didn't give the green-opticed mech a chance to respond as he leaned back in the booth seat. "So. Tell meh a bit 'bout yerself. Whatcha do fer a livin'?"

With a tilt of his helm, the dark mech's mouthplates curled back in a brief smirk that exposed sharpened dentia. "I get by with what I can. I do not have much; the majority of my family was killed in a factory accident."

"Hmm." Jazz stared at the mech for a moment, optics flickering over his faceplate. "Do Ah know ya from somewhere?"

Lime optics flickering, the winged mech frowned ever so slightly. "I do not believe we have met. Or, at least, I do not remember."

"Ah swear tha' Ah've seen ya face somewhere 'fore." The Polyhexian leaned close over the table, visor burning bright. "Ya sure we haven't met?"

Bloodstorm watched the mech's reaction carefully, noting the faint but still-present flare of his wings. He spoke before the dark mech could, smirking internally at the hellish green fire that burned. "Jazz, let the mech be. He does not remember you if you have ever met."

"Ah'm just tryin' ta remember why he looks so familiar." The lithe white mech growled softly, leaning against the broad frame of his lover as he grinned almost apologetically. "Sorry fer antagonizin' ya. Ah can be a li'l pushy sometimes."

"Oh, it is no bother at all. I deal with it all the time." Thin silver mouthplates pressed together in a faint grimace as he glanced away briefly, engine rumbling faintly. "It is a sensitive topic for me."

Jazz nodded in sudden understanding, visor brightening as he took a sip of his drink, speaking after he had swallowed. "Yeah, sorry 'bout tha'." He caught the pained frown that passed over the mech's faceplate, and he narrowed his optics. "Ya alright, there? Ya don't look so hot."

Green optics burned with a brief wild light as the darkly colored mech lurched to his pedes. Bloodstorm and Jazz did so as well, watching with guarded concern.

The dark mech shook his helm, wings flaring out wide. "E-Excuse me for a moment. I need..." He stumbled as his legs gave out, and he would have crashed to the floor had Bloodstorm not steadied him. 

"No, no. I-I am fine. Let me be." Pushing himself up, the winged mech stood hesitantly on his own. "I need to...just need to get something from..." He never finished his sentence before he vanished without a trace.

As if nothing had happened, a group of mechs and femmes bounded over, all eager to see Jazz and his new partner.

* * *

"It bothers me that you are so well-known here." Bloodstorm growled, baring pointed dentia with his wings fanning out wide as an inebriated femme attempted to make her way closer to Jazz. "Especially since you are known by the ones that I do not like."

The Polyhexian did not seem to notice the mech's reaction as he winked at the femme, elbowing the triple changer roughly as he snarled. "Ah, lighten up, will ya? Ah'mma have ta work with ya on not bein' a cop in public."

A heavy grip appeared on the bounty hunter's waist, and the next thing he knew, he was in the air. Bloodstorm had pinned him roughly to a table that he had cleared with a swipe of his servo and a snarl to anyone who protested, and now he was looming over him with a hellish crimson glare.

"I said, I do not like it." His voice was deep and rumbling, filled with a dangerous warning. _"You are mine."_

Jazz grinned, visor flickering in rising arousal. "Then why don't ya prove it ta me?"

The triple changer bared lengthening dentia, wings flaring out wide and enveloping the two of them in shadow. "Gladly."

* * *

Jazz moaned into the kiss as he was pressed roughly against the wall, the usually painful scrape and screech of his sleek armor sending a wave of pleasure through him as the folds of his drenched valve slid along the searing crimson armor of his lover.

Above him, Bloodstorm growled deeply, optics burning crimson as he ground his interface panel against that of the smaller mech, relishing in the fluids drenching him. "You have no idea how long I was waiting to do this to you...to pin you against the wall and frag you senseless." He ground roughly against the other, heat radiating off of him in waves.

The Polyhexian moaned again, throwing his helm back as he panted heavily. "Then shut up and frag meh, mech. Ah've been waitin' too - !" He cried out as a long and forked glossa was teasing over his exterior node, slipping through the lips of his valve and skimming over the swollen nodes inside. 

Bloodstorm gave a heavy groan as lubricant and transfluid filled his mouth, and his spike extended, pulsing and erect and twitching at the sounds of his lover lost in his own pleasure. A pulse of pre-transfluid shot from the tip, splashing onto the ground.

"'Nough teasin'." The silver-white mech's voice was filled with static and was deeper than normal. His accent was more pronounced, and his visor burned a dark shade of blue that showed his obvious arousal. Moving without warning, he lunged at the other mech and pinned him to the floor, grinding heatedly against him with heavy moans and curses. The triple changer growled as scorching wetness passed over his spike, baring pointed dentia as he tried to arch and throw the deceptively powerful mech off of him.

"Ooh, Ah've been waitin' fer this." Jazz grinned slyly, continuing to move his hips as he strove for his own overload. "Been thinkin' 'bout yer thick, hard spike in my valve. Gets meh wet whenever Ah think 'bout it, so much that Ah jus' wanna hump tha nearest thing and overload all over it." He snapped his dentia at the larger mech, visor burning almost hellishly. "Ya'd like watchin' tha', wouldn't ya? Seein' meh grindin' against a chair and soaking it in mah fluids. Ya'd like tha', wouldn't ya?"

Bloodstorm groaned deeply, spike straining away from him as he attempted to arch off of the ground. "Jazz..."

"Hmm? Ya want somethin'?" The Polyhexian grinned darkly, digging his talons deep into crimson armor. He rolled his hips, juices from his valve soaking the mech beneath him. "Somethin' like this?"

A vicious snarl came from the larger mech's engines and vocalizer, and he threw his helm back and shuttered his optics, spike throbbing as prefluid flowed from the tip. "Jazz, I swear upon the Allspark if you do not frag me right now I will frag you through the floor in your sleep."

"Oh, ya know Ah love it when ya talk like tha'." Jazz grinned roughly, flared manifolds releasing hot air as he positioned himself over the other mech, valve dripping freely.

Both mechs moaned as the Polyhexian sunk down onto the thick, throbbing spike, his soaked valve walls rippling and fluttering as he grew accustomed to the size of his lover. Bracing himself with his talons latched into the triple-changer's chest armor, he lifted his hips until only the head of the spike remained before sinking back down roughly, striking dangerously close to his anterior node. 

"Ah...oh, yes, 'Storm, right there!" Jazz moaned unabashedly, valve fluttering as his hips rose and fell in deep, slow motions. The head of his lover's spike was thick and wide, and each time it entered his valve a flash of pain and arousal flowed through him. Bloodstorm slid easily through the drenched folds of his lover's valve, moaning and groaning as the wet walls attempted to suck in the thick spike piercing the other.

Bloodstorm snarled, hips rising to meet the downward motions of his lover, driving his spike deeper into the wet warmth of his partner's valve as he moaned deeply. Jazz panted, hips moving faster as he rode the spike almost viciously, valve rippling and sucking at it as lubricant stained his thighs and the waist of the mech beneath him. 

"Ooh, yes!" Jazz moaned loudly, lubricant pouring down his thighs as he braced himself on the broad chest of his partner, his hips a blur as he rode the thick spike faster. "Storm, Ah'm gonna...gonna overload soon."

The triple changer did not respond verbally, instead giving a rough snarl to signal his oncoming release. Moving without warning, he had the small mech pinned to the floor, having reversed their positions as he fragged the Polyhexian ruthlessly, fanged dentia nipping and tearing at sensitive wiring as his rock-hard spike repeatedly slammed into his lover's ceiling node.

Jazz arched suddenly, visor flickering wildly and a cry of static-laced pleasure escaping him as his valve rippled and clamped down hard. Lubricant gushed from his valve in a rush as he ground against his lover's still thrusting hips, prolonging his overload. Bloodstorm roared above him, and then hot, thick, and sticky transfluid was filling his lover in a rush.

Both mechs laid there, cooling fans running at full speed in an attempt to lower the temperatures of their overheating frames. Bloodstorm reached over and embraced the smaller mech, uncaring of the fluids covering them as they kissed violently. Jazz groaned at the pulse of the still-hard spike inside of him, and he ground back against his lover, fluids slipping out of his valve.

Cringing suddenly, the Polyhexian intaked violently and pulled back with a shudder, moaning as his frame heated even more.

"Jazz?" Bloodstorm traced his talons over the sides of his partner, amber optics alive with concern. "What is it?"

"G-get offa meh." The white mech grimaced deeply, talons digging deep enough in his lover's armor to draw Energon. "Let meh up, 'Storm. Ah don't...don't feel well."

The triple changer did as told, steadying the mech as he swayed. Jazz groaned, visor offlining and engine rumbling in his pain. He turned away from the larger mech, ventilations heaving and hoarse as he coughed violently, hard enough to bring up Energon. 

Bloodstorm snarled, optics narrowing as he placed his servos on those of the smaller mech's. "Jazz, talk to me. What is wrong?"

The Polyhexian groaned, shuddering and shaking his helm as his visor flickered dangerously. "Storm, Ah think Ah'm gonna..."

The triple changer didn't even have the time to react before he was holding the limp, unconscious frame of his lover.


	2. Chapter 2

Jazz woke with a deep intake, his body jerking as it attempted to sit up. He snarled when he realized that he was bound to the berth beneath him with reinforced cybertonium straps. Taking in his surroundings, he came to the conclusion that he was in the hospital nearest to the bar and hotel he and Bloodstorm had been in before he had...passed out.

Baring his dentia in a pained and irritated scowl, he shouted to the door when he realized that there was no way for him to contact the doctor.

"Hey! Ah know ya hear meh! Why don't ya come an' let meh out? Ah'm perfectly fine."

All in all, what he said was only half-true. He really wanted to be let out - hospitals just weren't his thing - but he had a vicious pounding in his helm and his entire chassis felt like it was on fire even though his HUD told him that his body temperature was much lower than what it usually was.

There was no response. His enhanced audio receptors couldn't even pick up the slightest shift outside or around the room.

Venting heated air heavily, the Polyhexian shuttered his optics and lay back on the berth, exhausted from the amount of energy that he had put into his actions.

Rushing pedesteps sounded, and then the door to the room slammed open. Jazz sat up immediately, almost regretting it as an aching fire ran through his body.

The being before him was a mech of a significant height. A long white garment covered his armor, but through the opening on the mech's chest Jazz could see the shimmering golden armor that covered the doctor's lithe frame. Wings rose high above him, one covered in what seemed to be covered in what looked like the remains of a large and gruesome scar. A mask covered the bottom half of the mech's face, everything from the nasal ridge down, but two bright crimson optics burned bright.

The mech was handsome, of that there was no doubt, but all Jazz was focused on what getting out of this stupid hospital.

"It seems that you are awake." The mech spoke in a deep and rich voice, but the hunter could tell that he was rather young. He moved with a silent grace, approaching the bed-ridden Polyhexian. "How are you feeling?"

"Ah'm in a damned hospital. How do ya think Ah feel?" Jazz growled, baring his dentia as he glared at the mech as his wings flicked up and out.

"Ah, no need to be so sour. I am merely trying to help you." The golden mech glanced at the datapad in his servos, skimming through the contents. "Reports have shown that you were poisoned with a substance called Engex-B713. It is highly lethal, yet somehow you survived and actually did not offline during the purging of the drug from your systems. An interesting fact, indeed."

"Yeah, Ah'm special," Jazz muttered, visor offlining for a split second. When he turned it back on, however, the doctor was looming uncomfortably close.

"The slag, mech!" Jazz attempted to lurch away from the mech, only for an acidic fire to tear through his body as he shuddered and moaned in pain. "Ah swear, if Ah wasn't stuck in this Primus-forsaken medical berth - "

"There is no need for such profanity." The golden mech shook his helm, as if he were scolding a sparkling. "I was merely checking to see if there was any excess coolant or hydraulic fluid on your faceplates. Even though it does show how much of the toxin has been expunged from your systems, I do realize how uncomfortable it must be to have it constantly dripping into your optics and oral cavity."

Jazz snarled, baring his dentia as he felt the urge to punch the mech in the face. "Don' do tha' again, even if ya feel tha need ta. If Ah wasn't tha way Ah am currently, Ah woulda taken a dagger ta ya optics."

A faint brightness flickered through the mech's optics. "Now, why would you go and do that? You are just going to hurt yourself even more." Straightening up to his full height, the mech flicked his wings and began to rummage through a cabinet bolted to the wall. "If you tear open your wounds, especially after I worked so hard to weld them shut, I will not be a very happy doctor."

"Wounds?" Jazz snarled, optics narrowing. "What are ya talkin’ about?"

The doctor fixed his crimson stare on him. "What do you mean? The wounds that were on your servos, stabilizing struts, back, and thighs. There were some in more…intimate areas, but I understand that you get my meaning." The sudden but faint crinkle around the handsome mech's optics hinted that he was scowling. "Were you raped, my dear mech?"

"Wha'?" Jazz hissed at the pain that ran through him as he turned to face the mech in a violent series of movements, visor burning bright. "Why in tha world would Ah have been raped?"

Crimson optics darkening to a deep burgundy, the doctor leaned against the wall behind him and shook his helm. "Is it not obvious? You have numerous wounds in rather intimate places, areas where only partners or bondmates that are active in interface would be." His servos were crossed over his powerful chassis now, and his wings were openly displaying his increasing irritation. "Explain to me why I would not believe that this is rape when there are tears in your valve lining, almost irreparable damage to your spinal struts, and cracked infrastructure in your servos, thighs, and collar struts."

The Polyhexian stared a moment before giving a hoarse cough of a laugh. "Mech, let meh tell ya, Ah ain't exactly tha nicest of bots. An' neither is mah partner."

The doctor's ruby glare burned viciously as his engine growled deeply. "Oh, you are one of those mechs, aren't you?" He did not give the silver-white mech a chance to respond as he turned back to the cabinet, taking out a few canisters of some sort of medicine. "Well, how about telling your  _partner_ to go a little bit easier on you? Enough that you will not land yourself in the hospital again."

"Wait." The warning in the Polyhexian's voice made the doctor pause to glance at him. "Storm didn't do this. Put meh in tha hospital, Ah mean." He shook his helm minutely as the doctor made to retort. "No, listen. Ah wasn't...no. Storm didn't harm meh enough ta put meh in here, an' Ah can take pain pretty well. It was tha' mech in tha bar. He put somethin' in mah drink."

"Oh?" The golden mech was reading the label on a container he had in his clawed servo, optics narrow as he mouthed the words to himself. "Do explain this to me."

Jazz scowled at the mech's tone, but leaned back on the berth and shuttered his optics. "Some strange mech. Huge, possibly a Seeker or somethin' like tha'. He had these...bright lime green optics, an' he spoke all cold an' detached. Like...like he thought he was superior ta ev'ryone 'round him."

The doctor was nodding to show that he was listening. At the moment, he was filling an Energon drip with a concoction of medications he had taken from the cabinet. "And you believe that this mech was the one who poisoned you?"

"Wha', ya think it was 'Storm? He ain't done nothin', of tha' Ah can assure ya." Jazz growled, narrowing his optics as the mech began to look apprehensive. "Yes, tha' mech was tha one who poisoned meh, of tha' Ah am sure."

"Where is your proof?" the doctor demanded, wings rising high on his back. "You possibly cannot believe that he was the one to cause such a drastic negative influence on you."

The Polyhexian snarled at the mech, visor flashing in his rising irritation. "Ya barely know 'nough about meh ta be makin' assumptions." He vented heavily and spoke once more before the golden mech could intervene. "Look, everythin' went downhill after tha mech left me and mah partner. After he excused himself an' stumbled off."

"Stumbled off?" the mech scoffed, tilting his helm. "You make it sound as though he were overenergized."

"Will ya stop contradictin' meh?" Jazz demanded, forcing himself to sit up once more with a groan. "Tha' mech poisoned meh, tha' much Ah know, an' Ah don't care what ya think or if ya believe meh or not."

"Did I not tell you that I would not be happy if you tore open your wounds again?" The doctor was staring intently at him, optics almost insanely bright. But the boiling anger vanished as quickly as it had disappeared. "Please, just lay down and relax or I will have to drug you into stasis again."

"Ain't tha' what ya're about ta do?" The Polyhexian nodded at the Energon drip bag in the tall mech's servos, electromagnetic field rippling in agitation.

"What?" The golden mech looked genuinely confused, seeming to forget that he what he was holding, before he remembered what the mech was implying. "This? Oh, no. This is for another patient. The medications I need aren't stocked up in his room, and I doubt you'll be needing to take anything to alleviate gestation chamber aching."

The doctor whipped around, crimson optics blazing bright. "This, on the other hand," he continued, taking something from a pocket on the inside of his coat, "Is for you." 

Jazz locked onto the syringe in the mech's clawed servo, and he shifted in unease. "Ah told ya Ah'm fine, mech. Ah don't need - "

"I do not believe that I asked for your opinion." The golden mech was moving closer, slowly and steadily. "I am the doctor, after all. I only have your health in mind. Keep talking, however, and I may have to accidentally slip sedatives in your next meal."

"Ya threatenin' meh, mech? Mah partner ain't gonna like tha' if he finds out." Jazz narrowed his optics, a feral grin appearing on his faceplate. 

"Well, I suppose that it is a good thing that your partner isn't here." The doctor was beside the Polyhexian now, glancing over a datapad he had taken from the desk next to the medical berth. "My, my. You are one obdurate mech, wouldn't you say? Quite the job you have."

"Yeah, well it ain't none of ya business. Ah—" The Polyhexian cut off with a pained hiss as something sharp was jabbed into the side of his neck. "What the frag, mech! What are y'a—?"

The doctor was looming over him once more, crimson optics blazing with a hellish light. His faceplate mask had retracted, and Jazz could see the unnaturally wide grin that stretched across the mech's face. In his hand, the syringe was empty, a sign that he had just injected him with whatever had been in there.

Jazz cringed as a dull pounding began in the back of his processor, and the world began to blur and waver around him.

"Wha—wha' did ya...?" Jazz had trouble forming words, no doubt a result of the poison running rampant through his body.

"Oh, you shouldn't try to speak. It certainly won't make a difference." The mech straightened, and a thick yet cultured accent colored his voice, making a haunted realization run through Jazz.

"Ya...ya're tha'..." He clenched his dentia together as he found it increasingly difficult to form coherent words. "Ya're...Thunder—"

"Yep! Brownie points for you!" Thunderstrike grinned wildly, fangs now bared as he seemed to pat himself on the back. "It sure is funny how having a science background can help you in so many ways. Don't you think?"

The last thing Jazz heard was the demented laughter of the Incarcerator's Second in Command.

* * *

The Polyhexian woke with a start as an acidic fire ran through his frame. Immediately, he noticed that he could not see a thing; his optics were covered by a blinfold and his visor had been deactivated.

He sensed movement beside him, and then there was a telltale scrape of metal over metal. "Oh. You are awake."

Jazz snarled, struggling against his bonds. "Ah swear ta Primus, mech, if ya don't let meh out right now Ah'm gonna dissect yer sorry aft."

Thunderstrike gave a brief but powerful laugh as he shook his helm. "Sorry, but no can do. Master's orders. I am not to let you out."

"Then yer promised a very painful death when Ah get outta here." He snarled as two long, clawed digits slipped under the blindfold and tore it off.

The slim, golden frame of the doctor from the hospital loomed over him, and his optics were filled with a dark amusement and hunger that was so different from the concern the Polyhexian had seen earlier.

He snarled internally as the golden mech continued to survey him. So this was the legendary Thunderstrike. The mech that had been a delivery rat but was now the second in command of one of the most powerful mechs on the planet.

_Hmph. Ah guess he wasn't as big as Ah first thought._

Heat poured off of the larger mech as he leaned closer, the dark grin that appeared on his faceplate sending an involuntary chill down Jazz's spinal components. Thunderstrike seemed to notice it and his grin widened to unnatural levels, seemingly stretching from audio to audio as cold, acidic ventilations washed over the restrained mech.

Thunderstrike spoke before Jazz could demand what he was doing, tracing long and wickedly sharp talons over silver-white plating. "I absolutely adore your scent. So dark and deep and rich." The golden mech shuddered almost violently, pressing himself closer to the smaller, more delicate frame of his current prey. "It gets me so hot and running. See?" Much to Jazz's disgusted shock, Thunderstrike began to grind against him, moaning as he buried his faceplates into the smaller mech's neck cabling. "All that is because of you. I have not had anyone who has made me this hard in a very long time." Crimson optics bore deep into narrow cobalt ones as the mech grinned maniacally. "It means that I do not have to kill you outright. I can just play with you for however long I want..."

Jazz growled in his increasing rage as he felt the telltale hardness of the Seeker's spike against him, a hot and firm solidness that ran over his plating with a vicious efficiency. Internally, the Polyhexian knew that he could not force the larger mech off of him; Thunderstrike was far stronger than he looked, and even if Jazz tried the Seeker's talons were sunken in deep into his armor, and he knew that he would not want any dismembered limbs anytime soon.

Thunderstrike seemed to be nearing a brief overload as his hips moved faster and faster, and Jazz could feel and smell the lubricant that was leaking out from beneath the golden mech's codpiece. The Polyhexian snarled and attempted to arch to get the mech off of him, but Thunderstrike merely hissed at him and dug his claws in deeper, enough so that they were scraping harshly over the surface of his infrastructure.

"Mech, Ah swear if ya don't get offa meh, Ah'll—" The Polyhexian hissed as the Seeker's grip tightened viciously, and he could feel the creaking of his struts as the mech applied the strength that he was not so well known for. 

"Mmm...you can't do anything. Not while I am here." Thunderstrike was venting heavily, heat radiating from his chassis as his engine growled roughly. "You know that you cannot force me off, else you would have done it already. You are not...not all that you are said to be, are you?"

Jazz snarled, visor burning bright as the larger mech pressed even more of his weight into him. "Ya'll see wha' Ah can do when get outta here, Ah swear."

"I would like to see you try," the golden mech mech groaned, his electromagnetic field pulsing wildly as he vented heavily into the white mech's audio horn. "You...you cannot do a thing, not while I am here...pinning you down."

The mech seemed ready to overload, but before he could, a deep and powerful voice boomed through the room.

_"Thunderstrike!"_

The golden Seeker snarled lowly, a feral and manic sound, before turning and glaring at a hidden door behind them. "What?"

"You know you are not to be fraternizing with the prisoner." A hiss of automatic hydraulics sounded, and then a slim and sleek mech entered the room. He was tall, with pitch black armor and a bright crimson visor. He was scowling; it seemed that he had a profound distaste for the Incarcerator's Second in Command.

"Ah...you are just jealous." Thunderstrike had taken back to his grinding, forked glossa extended as he twisted in a disturbing manner to be at optic level with the newcomer. "You don't get to play with him."

The mech scowled. "I appreciate the offer, but if you want to be the one to tell Master about how  _you_ disobeyed his orders, I'm all for that plan." He turned and left before the golden mech could say anything.

Thunderstrike turned back to the Polyhexian, dentia bared in an irritated snarl. Venting heavily, he was suddenly on his pedes and looming over the restrained mech, venomous fangs extended and optics blazing insanely bright.

"Ah, well. I guess that means we will not have a lot of time to play." The mech pouted for a brief moment, and then his talons were once again lodged deep into the armor of the smaller mech. Jazz bit back a cry, and that seemed to irritate Thunderstrike even more as his grip tightened to parameters that all but shattered the bound mech's infrastructure.

"Thunderstrike. That is enough." An unmistakable, gravelly voice sounded behind the golden mech. 

Our of the shadows, a huge obsidian mech appeared, crimson optics burning bright. He had an air of power and fury radiating around him, and each step he took was slow, steady, and deliberate. 

Jazz groaned internally as an unrelenting chill settled over him. 

The mech was Smokescreen.

The Incarcerator's second youngest brother, who was known for his sadistic and masochistic tendencies and techniques that he would inflict on his prey.

"I was only testing him, Smokescreen. Does he not need to be ready for Master?" Thunderstrike purred as the larger mech pulled him into a rough embrace, moaning deeply as he was kissed violently. The two broke apart after a moment, claret optics burning.

"Yes, he will be prepared." Smokescreen grinned darkly, wings flared in a mixture of lust, anger, and impatience. "All we have to do is wait for Brother."

Thunderstrike whined softly, frowning as he traced his talons over the broad chassis of his temporary partner. "But Smokescreen, he is taking too long. Can't we have some fun while we wait?"

Smokescreen's glare locked with that of the Polyhexian as he trailed a servo over his partner's wings. "Yes. I suppose we can." He trailed his unoccupied servo down to rub harshly at the golden mech's interface panel, eliciting a moan and grind of those narrow hips.

"What do you say, bounty hunter?" Smokescreen's optics were two beacons of maniacal hunger and want, his servo now pumping the Seeker's wet, hard spike. "How do you feel about having some fun?"

Jazz bared his dentia and snarled as the black mech stared at him, Thunderstrike writhing beneath him.

He would have to endure the twisted fantasies of these two madmechs for who knows how long.

Wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The romance going on between Smokescreen and Thunderstrike is temporary, as stated in the story. The two have kind of an unhealthy relationship—they are really only together in order to be outlets for their sadistic and masochistic feelings.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the ridiculously long wait. My mom's getting married, so we're still setting up and preparing for that.

Jazz grimaced and offlined his visor as the sounds of Smokescreen and Thunderstrike interfacing floated over to him, disgust rolling through him in waves.

After threatening to rip off his wings, Smokescreen had forced the golden mech to continue his torture on the bound Polyhexian, hissing in his audio that he was not allowed to overload until he said so as he thrust his thick and hard spike in and out of the Seeker's valve. Thunderstrike had moaned and whimpered, his spike twitching at the words and releasing a spurt of fluids as he ground his soaked valve against Jazz's leg like an animal in heat.

As the Seeker snarled and hissed like a feral Predacon, Smokescreen straightened, his still-erect spike slipping out of his lover's valve.

Jazz growled in fury as a servo was suddenly on the back of his helm, and he forced his visor online to see Smokescreen looming over him. His spike was still hard and wet, twitching and dripping with fluids.

"Suck."

Jazz bared his dentia, visor and optics flashing dangerously bright. He struggled against his bindings, engine growling lowly to display his anger.

Smokescreen gave a displeased rumble and then his talons were digging deep into the armor on the smaller mech's collar struts as he yanked him close.

Crimson optics boiled feverishly as the obsidian mech glared. "I said, suck." A sudden dark smirk curled back his mouthplates as he tilted his helm. "Unless you want to be tortured for orns on end." His pointed dentia were bared in a vicious grin as his engine growled powerfully. "I could feed you to Little Blue, piece by piece. Or maybe even Thunderstrike. I am sure you would _love_ that."

Jazz snarled and continued to fight against his restraints, visor unnaturally bright. "Ah'd rather suck Unicron's exhaust port than go anywhere near ya an' tha' moanin', pitiful excuse fer a second in command over there."

Thunderstrike stopped his grinding, huge dentia bared as he growled viciously and dug his talons deep into the wounds he had already created. "What did you call me?"

The bounty hunter scoffed, rolling his optics even as his visor burned brightly. "Wha' are ya deaf or somethin' too? Ya heard meh."

Crimson optics smoldering with a fire that belonged in the Pits, the golden mech was pressing down hard on the Polyhexian's chest armor, his strength easily crushing the protective metal over the spark casing. His dentia were bared as the weight increased, and Jazz could not help but wince as the armor began to slice through his protoform and brush against his spark casing.

 "Thunderstrike." Smokescreen was looming over the Seeker now, and his vents were heavy and labored. He was seemingly restraining himself from pulling the Seeker back, and his spike bobbed and swayed in the air with each movement he made. "Come here."

The golden mech snarled roughly, wings twitching as he twisted to stare at the larger mech. "But I thought you said—"

 _"—come here."_ The Praxian was trembling viciously, and his talons were digging deep into his armor, and his spike twitched and spurted hot and thick transfluid. 

Thunderstrike purred deeply, rising to his pedes and stalking silently towards the larger mech. Once he was close enough, Smokescreen forced him to his knees and shoved his spike deep in his mouth, moaning unabashedly as he strived for his own overload.

Jazz grimaced and offlined his visor, leaning his helm back as he felt unprocessed Energon rise in the back of his throat. Once he got out of there, he would be sure to pay both of those  _disgusting_ mechs back for what they did.

A shiver ran down his spinal components, and with a jerk he sat up, optics wide and vents coming faster. 

He knew that feeling. It meant  _he_ was coming.

"Very good, hunter. I see that your skills of observation are not wavering in any way."

Two slanted golden optics appeared in the shadows to the side of Smokescreen and Thunderstrike, and without a noise, the mech known as the Incarcerator came forward.

He regarded the two interfacing mechs beside him with a look of clear and cold disinterest, growling softly before he faced the Polyhexian once more. "Why such a long face, my dear? Have my comrades not been treating you well?"

The bounty hunter snarled as he struggled with his restraints, engine roaring and visor dangerously bright. "Ya piece of waste-eatin' slag! When Ah get outta this, Ah swear ta Primus Ah'm gonna—"

The mech tutted and shook his helm, a grim smirk appearing on his scarred mouthplates. "Now, now, my mech. That is no way to talk to your savior." He noticed the way confusion flitted over the bound mech's face, and he frowned and tilted his helm as if in genuine surprise. "You mean you do not know what I mean? Why, my dear..."

Prowl was looming over the smaller mech, fanged dentia bared and wings raised high above him. Jazz shuddered visibly as the killer moved to be uncomfortably close, and he could feel the unnatural cold radiating off of the huge mech.

The Incarcerator grinned darkly at the unease that overcame his prey. "Oh, are you scared? Do not worry, my pet." Those icy talons traced over sensitive audio horns, making Jazz shudder once again and pull back, baring his dentia.

"We will be your savior. No—" He cut off and flared his armor, his open manifolds releasing scalding air that made the white mech hiss. 

The killer moved with a dark efficiency, slamming into the Polyhexian with so much force that the chair rattled and protested with a groan.

"I will be your savior. And do you know why?" The mech's talons were digging dangerously deep into the hunter's armor, almost scraping the surface of the infrastructure as his optics burned a hellish crimson. "By the end of our time with you, you will be begging for your life. I will inflict so much pain onto you that you will beg for Death's merciful hand."

He stood abruptly, flicking his wings out as he approached his subordinates. He snarled something roughly, and with a groan the two mech untangled themselves, covered in lubricant and transfluid.

The Incarcerator gave a demonic grin, rows of sharpened dentia bared in the horrific action.

"Now, where should we start?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger, I know. But with the way this story is planned out, most of the non-con stuff is in the next chapter. And the Jazz/Prowl stuff. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I changed my writing style a bit in this chapter. There are descriptive parts describing what the Incarcerator, his brothers, and Thunderstrike did to Jazz. The weird parts are basically Jazz's mind protesting against what the Incarcerator and his team are doing. This is the second to last chapter, so Jazz will be rescued. But if it's in time...I'll leave that up to you to find out. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Jazz arched and screamed as the blade pierced the metal flesh of his chest, Energon gushing from the wound with a fervid and demented passion.

Prowl grinned above him, optics blazing with a demonic pleasure as he brought the blade to his mouth and wrapped his unnaturally long and forked glossa around it, lapping at the Energon with a pleasured moan. "Oh, my dear hunter. You have no idea how  _delicious_ you taste."

The Polyhexian growled a retort, but it was hastily muffled as the blade was pressed against his mouthplates.

A deep snarl escaped the larger mech as he glared furiously. "Speak one word and I will carve out your glossa and feed it to you piece by piece. Understand?"

Jazz bared his dentia, engine growling roughly as he glared but did nothing.

Prowl purred, optics flashing brightly as he fluttered his wings. "Good, my pet. Soon, you will learn to follow my every order." 

He seemingly ignored the huff that the smaller mech gave as he turned to inspect the various types and models of tools he had brought in. "Hmm. I wonder what I should use next. Perhaps a scalpel, to peel off your armor, or a simple dagger to shave away your audio horns?" He turned to face the Polyhexian once again, crimson optics burning brightly. "What would you prefer?"

He turned to face the Polyhexian once again, crimson optics burning brightly. "What would you prefer?"

* * *

pain

nothing but pain

—he arched and screamed as the point—

cut through soft metal flesh

_oh so easy. like cutting through a sparkling's flesh_

stop it

stop it, stop it, stop it

_I cannot..._

_...so much fun—_

_no, no, no_

_no, **no, NO**_

_**fire, fire, fire** _

_leave me alone_

moan like a pleasure mech

moan like a buy mech

_oh, yes_

_suck harder_

_harder_

_harder_

get off of me

move away

—I can't—

* * *

"It is almost time."

no

no,  _no, **no**_

_**YES** _

"Why are you sad?"

_leave me alone_

"Fix it."

pain

pain,  _pain, **pain**_

_"Fix it."_

he moaned and whined

shaking his helm

engine rumbling

_distress_

_agony_

_acid **fire**_

* * *

"Oh, yes, brother. Keep doing that." A deep, gravelly moan came from behind the largest Praxian, and Jazz was shocked to see that it was Smokescreen standing there, with the lithe navy frame of his youngling brother Bluestreak standing beside him. He had not heard nor sensed the two younger Praxians enter; he had been too focused on what the mech looming over him had been doing. 

The Incarcerator grinned wildly, fanged dentia bared as he gave a dark laugh. "Go ahead, brother. I know you want to."

Jazz was about to demand what was going on, but before he did Smokescreen followed his brother's order. With a click, his interface panel snapped open, and a pressurized spike extended, prefluid already forming at the tip. The organ was long and thick, ribbed with crimson and white biolights.

Smokescreen locked gazes with the Polyhexian, and a dark, lust-filled smirk appeared on his mouthplates before he moaned again. Trailing a servo down his broad chassis suggestively, the assassin wrapped his digits around his spike, pumping it viciously with the slick and wet sounds of his fluids being spread around. His hips moved in time with his pumps, and a spurt of transfluid escaped to splash against the floor. His other servo trailed down to his freely hanging transfluid sac, fondling it as he continued to moan.

Behind him, Thunderstrike was gripping his own spike, crimson optics locked onto Smokescreen's motions with a dangerous accuracy. His talons traced over the weeping head, transfluid coating his digits as he moaned unabashedly at the pleasure of self-servicing.

Jazz was torn from the obsidian mech's stare as Prowl dug his talons into his raw wounds, making him arch and scream as the jagged edges were pulled apart and torn even further. Above him, he heard the Incarcerator moan deeply, and the mech's weight shifted. There was a brush of searing hot metal over his thigh and then a trail of thick, sticky fluid was left behind. The Polyhexian groaned and shook his helm with a moan of pain and risked a glance down. His suspicions turned out to be true - Prowl was grinding his heated and soaked valve against him, the parted folds gliding easily over the metal and leaving thick and heady lubricant behind.

Smokescreen cried out suddenly, and through the corner of his peripheral vision Jazz could see that Bluestreak was on his knees, his brother's spike buried deep in his mouth as he sucked vigorously. Thunderstrike came over and buried his faceplates between the obsidian mech's thighs, no doubt eating out his valve, and Smokescreen gave another aroused cry as he forced his spike deeper into his brother's mouth and squirted hot lubricant into Thunderstrike's mouth. 

Prowl snarled, eyeing Jazz darkly. Weakly, Jazz protested, managing a swipe with his talons that only made the larger grounder's engine roar heatedly, but it was no use—the Incarcerator had a hand on the back of his helm and was pulling him down until he was level with his pelvic region.

Lubricant was running in heavy, flowing streams down the Praxian's thighs. The lips of his valve were spread, throbbing and soaked with lubricant and transfluid.

The Incarcerator growled roughly, positioning himself over the smaller mech's face. Smearing his fluids over the Polyhexian's face—the sheer amount nearly had him choking—he gave a deep moan that turned into a husky laugh. "You know what to do, hunter. Do as you are told, or I will have Blue eat your spike piece by piece." 

With a muffled gasp, Jazz shook his helm as his visor blazed bright. Fanged dentia lengthening, he sunk them deep into the valve above him. Prowl hissed in pain, jerking and digging his talons deep into the hunter's wounds in retaliation, huffing heavily at the cry of pain. The Energon began to flow from the wounds, and to Jazz's disgusted shock the Praxian grinned down at him with a dangerous fire in his now crimson optics. He slipped a digit into his open valve, tracing his talons over the bleeding wounds with a dark moan.  

"Should not have done that." The Praxian was panting heavily, hips rolling into his touches. "Only turns me on." He tilted his helm to stare down at the mech, mouthplates stretched unnaturally wide in a terrible imitation of a grin.

Smokescreen groaned as he reached overload, and the audible sound of spurting fluids filled the air, drowning out the similar cries of Bluestreak and Thunderstrike.

The Incarcerator grinned roughly, digging his talons into the armor of his restrained prey. His spike extended, long and ribbed and thick as it visibly pulsed and spattered transfluid on the smaller mech.

"Now, we can  _really_ begin."

* * *

fluids

everywhere

hot, scalding, dripping

_disgusting_

_**horrid stench** _

_**sticky** _

_get it **off**_

stop

_stop_

**_stop_ **

moan.

moan for me like a whore

_oh, Primus_

harder.

harder.

faster.

_oh, Primus_

right there

more, more, more

harder

do it—

—right there—

_oh, Primus_

* * *

A horrific snarl echoed throughout the room.

Crimson armor rippled and flared as engines roared.

"Where is he?"

"Sir, we can't—"

_"—do not give me that excuse!"_

Fear trembled and shook in the toxic air.

"—that's not what—"

_Silence._

* * *

" _You **dare** to defy me?!"_

He arched and screamed as the acid ate through his metal flesh, carving its poisonous way deep into the Polyhexian's body.

"I will make you suffer." The monster was pacing and trembling violently, wings flared dangerously high and optics a vicious shade of crimson.

"You  _will_ suffer, and scream and beg for mercy like the pitiful _whore_ you are!"

Suddenly his head was pulled back, and with a roar the larger mech tore the visor off with a sickening screech of metal tearing and Energon lines and hyrdaulics being shredded to pieces. Then a syringe was held over his newly-exposed optics. 

Jazz screamed and cried as the acid ate through the wiring of his optics.

* * *

He was back again.

_hello, my pet_

no

leave me alone

'm not that...

_yes you are_

_don't deny it._

hot scorching fluid.

_oh, you feel so good._

no.

no I don't.

stop it

stop it

stop it

_oh, Primus_

_yes—_

_—right there..._

_more, more, more.._

do it.

harder.

_won't hurt anymore..._

just keep moving

keep talking

—oh, my dear—

no, no, no

it hurts

make it stop

please

don't want anymore

 I don't want it—

_don't want—_

_—no more._

* * *

"Progress."

A heavy vent. "Sir, I don't think—"

There was a thundering, enraged snarl. "—what?"

"—we can't find—"

_"Keep looking."_

* * *

He came back.

Always comes back. 

—no, he will come back—

inevitable

Hiss as the door opens. 

Cringe away like a tamed beast in a cage.

The Incarcerator grinned roughly, spike already extended and dripping freely.

"Make it good."

_Whore_

I shivered as the fluid scalded my faceplates. He was always so hot.

_Hot._

_So hot and delicious._

_What?_

_No._

_No._

_He isn't._

_Not good._

**_so good_ **

_not_

**_so_ **

_good_

**_good_ **

_notgood **sogood**_

"Faster."

He moaned heavily. His tip was hitting the back of my throat.

Another mech came in. He started to frag my valve.

_Yes. Please Master. Make him feel good._

_What? No no no. Not Master. Bad._

_Bad mech. Bad mech._

_Pleasure. Good pleasure._

"You feel so good, my dear pet."

He groaned again. Spike pulsing and squirting fluid as he neared his overload.

There was a long and heavy groan, and then bittersweet fluids were flooding my intake. The mech below me groaned as well, and then his essence was filling my torn and sore valve.

_"Good pet."_

_Yes, yes, yes._

_I am a good pet._

* * *

"Sir, we have a reported sighting of Young One."

Bloodstorm immediately straightened, optics burning bright as he rose to his pedes. "Where?"

"Near the docks of the Riskave port," the younger officer responded, turning to face the towering mech. "Sir, I should not have to warn you that this is a trap."

The triple changer growled deeply, tracing his talons over the large machine gun in his servos. "No. You should not. Send a task force to the docks and one with me. I am leaving now and I want that force there yesterday."

* * *

_What—_

"Mmm."

_Please him._

_All he wants._

_Just..._

"Harder."

A slam of a door.

Metal against metal.

Dark, aggressive snarling.

_"Brother!"_

_What—?_

He was moving faster. Almost incoherent. Scalding fluid. Hot, warm, burning.

"They're here."

He slipped out from me, tracing a talon over my newly acquired wounds.

_No._

_Master._

_Don't—_

"I will see you soon, my pet."

* * *

The sight was horrible. 

Energon and fluids covered the walls in large stains. Pieces of silver-white, golden, black, and navy blue metal were scattered across the room, and a few large and gruesome knives and daggers were spread out haphazardly, enough so that Bloodstorm had to watch where he was stepping at every given moment.

 _/Sir./_  The sniper Enforcer that was stationed across the street on the parallel building's roof spoke in a hoarse rumble.  _/Southern corner of the complex. I'm picking up an extremely faint life signal./_

"Acknowledged." The triple changer motioned with a servo to the specialized Enforcers and to his own team, heading down a darkened corridor with his multi-purpose blaster raised in front of him.

The turbofox that was being held back by a leash by one of the specialized Enforcers whined and barked suddenly, stopping in its tracks only to back away with a whimper. Its caretaker grunted with the effort of keeping it still, but his optics locked onto the nearest adjacent room as he nodded to the triple changer.

Bloodstorm raised a servo to signal a countdown, and when he was finished he kicked down the door and barged into the room.

The room stank of transfluid, lubricant, purged semi-processed Energon, and spilled Energon. Metal was thrown in randomly discarded piles, and even more piles of shredded armor were cast about.

A faint moan came from the center of the window-less room, and the Enforcers all immediately fixed their weapons on the source. 

Amber optics widened as powerful engines roared. "Lower your weapons! Now!" Bloodstorm did not bother waiting for them to follow the order as he sheathed his gun and moved towards the bound mech at the center. 

A low snarl rumbled throughout his broad chassis, and he wordlessly comforted the trembling Polyhexian.  _I swear to Primus I will kill all of them._ "Relax, Jazz. You will be okay. We're getting you out of here, and you'll be perfectly fine."

Bloodstorm felt a servo on his shoulder panel, and then a soft and gentle voice met his audio receptors. "Sir, I have to ask you to step aside so we can patch up his wounds."

Jazz whined and struggled, visor flashing blindly as he registered the disappearance of his partner—that enormous, impossibly strong source of warmth and protection. He moaned incoherent words as he began to vent heavily, sending waves of scalding air throughout the room.

The triple changer hushed the injured saboteur, fixing his amber gaze on the medic. "I am riding with him."

"I have no objections to that." The emergency response mech shrugged, a gesture that would have been nonchalant if he had not been shaking. "Ironcross, get over here! I need an Energon drip, multiple sheets of metal of varying thickness, and welders, immediately!"

"Do not worry, my love," Bloodstorm held the mangled servo of his partner in his own, gently caressing the singed and torn metal in an effort to comfort the blinded mech. "You will be perfectly fine."

_I pray to Primus that it isn't a lie._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter posted will be the last. Jazz is recovering from his torture, and his teammates are attempting to help him along the way.


End file.
